


Knowledge

by ChampagneSly



Series: Hidden Verse, Hidden Heart (Poetry AU) [8]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChampagneSly/pseuds/ChampagneSly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex on the kitchen floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knowledge

By the time the credits rolled on episode of Top Gear he’d DVR’d, it was late enough for the house to be dark and quiet, and for Alfred to start finding the bed just a little too cold and a little too empty for the fourth night in a row. He knew that Arthur was deep in the weeds of preparing his manuscript, but he didn’t think it was all that healthy to still be giving Marvell all his attention at ten til midnight. It wasn’t that Alfred was jealous of a long-gone poet or didn’t understand the thrill of the pursuit of knowledge, but he’d missed the taste of Arthur’s kiss and the weight of his arm across his chest when they went to sleep. 

He’d left Arthur to his poetic devices for two nights in a row, but he wasn’t sure he could let the third time be the charm, not when he’d spent an hour cooking dinner and watching Arthur bite his lip and suck on his pen and he’d entertaining the sort of juvenile dirty thoughts that were better suited for a fifteen year old kid than a grown ass man. Maybe he was bored, maybe he was having a resurgence of adolescent hormones, maybe the shiny cars on Top Gear had turned him on a little, too, but Alfred’s skin prickled with lust and his mind was full of so very bad ideas. He knew that Arthur was going to fuss, knew those brows were going to collapse under the weight of protestation, knew that he was very likely taking a one-way trip to piss-off Professor Kirkland, but Alfred couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to go to bed alone, not tonight, not when he couldn’t stop wanting to lick the smudge of ink from Arthur’s throat.

Alfred wasn’t sure he could have resisted no matter how much he knew not to disturb the wild English professor on a hunt, not when he walked into the kitchen just in time to hear Arthur groaned obscenely, curse, and toss his papers to floor while muttering, 

“Bugger this and fuck me six ways to Sunday, I’ve had it.” 

Before the last sheet had settled on their kitchen floor, Alfred was across the room and draping his arms around those stiff, over-worked shoulders and murmuring in Arthur’s ear, “If that’s an invitation, I am so RSVP’ing yes.” 

“I’m far too busy to party with you, idiot.” Arthur swatted at the hands that were already dipping beneath the stretched collar of his t-shirt, trying to pretend he didn’t groan when Alfred pinched his nipple and bit his throat. “Go away, go away immediately.” 

“C’mon, Artie.” Alfred laughed, leaning closer to lick his jaw and trying to avoid the pen that Arthur kept weakly trying to stab into his forearm. “Take a break from the pursuit of knowledge, come and make much of my time.” 

“Do not quote Herrick to me, you bothersome little twit.” The chair clattered against the tile, pushing against Alfred’s knees as Arthur snarled and twisted in his grasp, grabbing Alfred by the hair and pulling him into a kiss so hot and dirty, Alfred wondered exactly what Arthur had against Herrick and then decided he didn’t give a damn because Arthur was sucking on his tongue and finally, finally putting down the pen. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor Kirkland,” Alfred goaded, lips wet with Arthur’s kiss. He liked the way Arthur’s gaze narrowed at the false respect, liked the way his mouth pursed all irritated and determined, and really liked the way Arthur shoved out of his chair and crowded against his chest. 

“Don’t play coy with me, Jones. It doesn’t suit you.”Arthur bit his shoulder and then ripped his sleep-shirt over his head, tossing it on top of the papers that had offended him so badly. 

Caught off-guard when Arthur slid his hand beneath the loose band of his sweats and cupped his half-hard cock, Alfred gasped and bucked into the touch, palming Arthur’s ass and dragging him close. “Dam, Artie. You aren’t playing around tonight.” 

“You’re the one who interrupted me. I’m just giving you what you came here for, what you think is important enough to interrupt my precious few hours to work.” Arthur snorted and wrestled him to the ground, reminding Alfred that though he might have been the ball player once upon a time, he could more than hold his own. 

Pinned to the kitchen floor with cold tiles against his back and Arthur’s warm, aggressive body between his legs and pressed to his chest, Alfred smiled teasingly and dug his fingers into Arthur’s hair while he murmured, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I was after a little bit of carnal knowledge.” He rolled his hips against Arthur’s, pushing their cocks together as he kissed the corner of Arthur’s frown and licked his pout, “How about it, Teach? Wanna give me a quick lesson before bed?” 

Arthur kissed him deeply, bit at his mouth and poured sighs and groans of frustrations down Alfred’s greedy throat while he pushed a hand between their tangled bodies. Arthur abandoned the kiss too soon, left Alfred with half a moan between his lips to suck an angry mark on his throat and score his teeth over collarbone, nipples and then back up to the soft lobe of his ear. Arthur whispered roughly, voice somewhere between a promise and a threat, “You’re no virgin, and I don’t have the time, but I’ll gather your rosebuds while I may, my persistent little wretch.”

“You say the sweetest things, Artie,” Alfred teased, taunt falling short when fingers that had been hold a pen for far too many hours pulled his cock from his pants and curled tight and sure around his shaft. Alfred knew his back was going to hurt from arching up and down on an unforgiving hard floor, but it was hard to care when Arthur was pushing his own pants around his waist and slipping between Alfred’s bent knees to drag their cocks together. 

“Shut-up and be grateful that I’m letting you distract me,” Arthur grumbled, eyes fluttering shut as Alfred raised his hips in search of more of Arthur’s touch. 

“I’m always grateful for you, baby,” Alfred whispered, incapable of not wanting the last word when Arthur was like this, all coiled passion and taut need. He stole whatever bomb Arthur was going to lob in return from his lips, tangling one hand in Arthur’s hair and pushing the other between their bodies to grip Arthur’s cock and stroke him in turn. He laughed at Arthur’s scoff of disdain, enjoyed the extra twist and tug of Arthur’s wrist in response to the pet name he pretended he loathed.

Alfred held Arthur in place as best as he could while being pinned to the kitchen floor and buried by Arthur’s demanding, rapid-fire thrusts of his hips and stroke of his hand. His fingers tight in Arthur’s hair as he kissed the pent-up frustration from his mouth and spilled his own neediness into the embrace, not letting go until Arthur was rocking against him so hard and fast he knew his body was going to ache so fine the next morning. Arthur was making low, rough little noises that had his toes curling on the tile and his hand stroking Arthur just a little faster, thumb spreading the wetness at the head as he tried to touch Arthur just the way he liked. 

Maybe it was because it had been a few days or maybe he truly was regressing to his early twenties when it never took more than a really filthy good kiss to get him going, but Alfred was already panting into Arthur’s smug mouth, cock already slick and too hard in Arthur’s palm. He saw stars from the sting of his head smacking against the floor when Arthur wrenched out his grasp and slipped down the length of his body to wrap his lips around his cock and suck. He heard Arthur’s name echo on the kitchen walls and absently realized it must have been him saying it over and over while Arthur licked him, tasted him, and swallowed him deep just once before Alfred was coming down his throat and going quiet. 

Alfred opened his eyes and remembered to breathe just as Arthur was straddling his still trembling hips and stroking himself with rapid jerks of his hand, expression wrecked with parted too red lips and flushed cheeks. He scrambled to sit up, to kiss away the come that lingered on the corner of his mouth and feel the rush of Arthur’s sigh and the thundering of his pulse as he came.

Alfred’s chest was sticky and his back was sore, but his heart was light and his smile happy when Arthur finally slumped against him, close and loose in the span of his arms. Arthur’s fingers toyed absently with his hair while Alfred swept his hands over Alfred’s shoulders and squeezed, wanting to feel the tension of too much work forgotten if only for a moment. 

“Sorry for interrupting,” Alfred murmured, kissing the tired creases that crept from Arthur’s eyes. Arthur snorted and nipped his jaw, apparently not as annoyed as he’d been ten minutes ago. Alfred hummed and held him closer, “But I did really enjoy my lesson.”

“Of course you did,” Arthur said lowly, brushing his lips over Alfred’s unrepentant smile. “But as I doubt you learned it, considered yourself banned from the kitchen for the next two days, dearest.” 

“Harsh, Artie,” Alfred laughed, wincing as he tried to shift his legs out from under him and his back made its first protest. 

“You should know better,” Arthur answered primly, before yawning and giving Alfred exactly what he’d wanted. “Well, now that’s settled, take me to bed.”


End file.
